


Will I lose my dignity

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Nightmares, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 14:24:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16087928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: Atlas Molniya doesn't sleep very well. He needs whiskey and a good distraction.Thinking about the new engineer isnota good one.





	Will I lose my dignity

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the early part of Season 2 - after the kiss, but before that awkward hug. Which was a glorious moment, but I love imagining what was going through his head in that moment. 
> 
> Especially because I miss the POV episodes of Lovestruck.

_Breathe, Atlas. Breathe. For fuck’s sake, man, breathe._

When nightmares woke him, this seemed to be the traditional nightly position: sitting upright in bed, blankets around his legs, heels of his hands pressed into his eyes, and his mouth in the confused position of staying open to catch his breath back and closing constantly to muffle the frightened sounds that snuck out of him.

It was just a dream. Just a dream. Atlas Molniya was no longer in the Union – he was on a ship, _his ship_ , on the Promise, surrounded by crew that he had chosen and let on board, away from Union space, and he was _okay._

Well, not exactly okay, but there was whiskey to fix that.

When he could get his breath back, Atlas swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, walking across the room to dig through the cabinet where he kept his whiskey. There were a couple bottles still left in there, and when he got it open, he had a quick swig straight from the bottle. The familiar taste of it burned its way down his throat, and he let out a shaking breath as he started to settle. 

Then back to the bed he went, sitting on the edge of it, bottle in hand, and the other hand reaching for the ever-present glass on the bedside table. He poured two fingers of whiskey, considered the glass for another moment, and added two more on top of that. Bottle capped, set to the side, and with his glass in hand, he sighed, low and frustrated.

“Well done, Molniya. Well done.”

Another night’s sleep interrupted. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now, and he knew that when everyone else was up and moving, he was going to be much more grumpy than usual. Yes, everyone on board had been through hell and they understood how your past moved like a shadow behind you, no matter how fast you tried to run, but it was still rough.

Well, not everyone had. Not the new engineer.

What had he been thinking when he suggested she stay to fix the ship? Well, first he hadn’t suggested it. He’d just smashed his gun into the Promise and told Orion they’d need her to fix it – _his baby, he dented his baby to keep that cute little engineer on board._ And she’d just stared at him in shock before beaming like a goddamn sun.

What had he been thinking?

_You were thinking that she calmed you when nothing else would. You were thinking of her hand on her chest helping you breathe, those clever hands working with wires, the little wrinkle between her eyebrows when she concentrates, how you trusted her to work on the Promise while you flew dark away from the Union ships, how goddamn scared she looked when she was being shot at, how much more competent she was getting away from her little safe colony…_

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and had another swallow of whiskey, as if it could burn the thoughts away too.

She was something else, wasn’t she? She’d stumbled her way into his life, onto his damn ship, and now, as much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it…she was worming her way in.

That was not a good idea. Not in their line of work. Not with the amount of baggage carried (at this rate, it was an entire cargo ship full of baggage). It was better to forget those little things that had kept his mind, to forget her smile, her intelligence, her awkward jokes…

_Her lips on yours._

He froze mid-sip of the whiskey and nearly snarfled it. A bit of coughing later, he set the glass down and put his face in his hands again.  
Stars, he could still feel it. She’d practically fallen into his lap – _if that was a sign from the universe, he didn't know what it was, but it needed to stop anyway_ \- and her lips had fallen on his, and it had taken an unexpected amount of self-control not to taste her lips. It was a moment that had both lasted too long and too little, and he wasn’t ashamed of how he had practically run away from her.

The glass was empty far too quickly, and he poured himself more. One more, and then he’d get back on the bridge.

Atlas Molniya wasn’t one for feelings. Not a chance in hell. He didn’t want to work out what he was feeling when he looked at the little engineer, and he had absolutely no intention of it. It was much easier just to put them to aside, to focus on the job and the now, and to shove the past as far behind him as he could.  
When he finished the glass, he got dressed, tugging on the jacket that felt like a suit of armour. The bottle came with him, tucked under his arm, and he made his way out of his room to the bridge. No, it was much easier just to focus on flying the ship.

Unless she came to the bridge and did something overly friendly. Like hugging him. 

He scoffed at his thoughts as he settled into his seat. As if. What were the odds of that happening? She was smarter than that.


End file.
